


skin hunger

by MementoMoriPontifexMortis



Series: Unofficial Whumptober 2k19 [4]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Emotional Baggage, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Introspective Estonia, M/M, Mention of the Micronations, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Finland/Sweden (Hetalia), Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-23 18:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21085775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MementoMoriPontifexMortis/pseuds/MementoMoriPontifexMortis
Summary: Sometimes there is a hunger inside you that you can’t fix alone.





	skin hunger

**Author's Note:**

> This is a deeply personal fic. I have such issues with human contact - last time I laid in a bed with a person, I made sure I had my own blanket cause I absolutely hate skin to skin contact, yet at the same time I crave hugs and human contact. It’s weird, I know. I can remember being like five and telling my mom not to hold my hand as we walked back home from school and yet crying if I didn’t get a hug from someone. I have such issues when it comes to human contact/interaction and it all comes from trauma that I’m just carrying with me. 
> 
> This was posted on my blog @queenofdenest on tumblr on my birthday so this is my birthday fic to myself.

Two hours worth of a shower is wasteful, Estonia thought as he patted himself dry with a fluffy towel. Especially since he had just taken a three hour bath in the morning. If it continued on this way -- which was most likely -- then he was going to have to figure something out because his house still ran on a water tank that refused to work properly and he had no desire to go back to heating water via pots on the stove. Especially since his stove was still an old wood burning one. 

Contrary to the popular belief that just because he loved technology and certain modern amenities, it didn’t mean that his house was outfitted with all of the new stuff. It would be no problem to do so, he knew that, but at the same time, there was something about inviting a stranger into his home to fix it up that caused a twinge in his stomach. The less people who knew about his farmhouse, the better. 

Denmark knew, a traitorous part of his brain said. And it was true. The Northern nation knew and had even visited, but he had been the only one. Others who came by believed that he owned an apartment in the heart of Tallinn. 

As he dressed in his pajamas and slipped on a pair of slippers, he shook his head. If he thought too hard on why he kept his distance from people, he’d have to think about the fact that it was the same reason he kept his  _ physical _ distance from people. That was something he tried very hard to not think about. Too much thinking on that and he’d imagine how it would feel to have someone stroke his skin and kiss his cheeks and -- 

And then the good thoughts would be taken over by how it felt when Russia’s bosses ordered him and Latvia and Lithuania to be taken to that facility where they were questioned for months about the chain their people had created and the protests and then the thoughts would go back to when he had been questioned earlier in his captivity about how people were escaping, how his people who had escaped screamed for the rest of the world to take notice - to not allow the Soviets to destroy their homes.

Dark dingy, obtusely cold rooms taunted him from the back of his mind and Estonia moved to grab a knitted blanket off his couch as he bypassed it. The chill of the rooms swept over his skin again, freezing it. If he listened closely, he was sure he could hear Latvia crying and Lithuania muttering prayers from somewhere down a hallway. 

And if he closed his eyes as he walked through his own home, he could be teleported straight to the room where they had placed him under water for hours. 

But he didn’t. He wouldn’t. Estonia opened his fridge and pulled out the milk and walked it (back) to the stove. As he worked on starting yet another cup of hot chocolate, he decided not to focus on the fact that he had been taking long showers and baths, that he had been drinking an exorbitant amount of hot chocolate and hot tea and coffee, that he had been spending his nights wrapped up in the largest, fluffiest blanket he owned and sitting in the barn, spending his nights sleeping in the corner of a stall, wishing that instead of just having a barn, he had animals inside. 

No, instead, he decided to focus on the ticking of the clock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. 

Once done with his hot chocolate, he placed everything in the sink - or in the case of the milk, back in the refrigerator - and moved towards the living room. The fireplace was still warm from when he had first started it early in the morning and he settled right in front of it, his back leaning against the solid wood coffee table. 

The clock ticked on. The night brought the bad memories. The blanket wrapped tightly around him tried to fight them away. In the end, Estonia listened as the phantom screams intruded in his mind, as nightmarish caricatures of people tortured him, his brothers, his people. 

He felt his skin crawl from the cold, from the idea of touch, while his mind screamed for someone - anyone - to lay a hand on him. 

And still, the clock ticked and tocked and ticked and tocked. 

If he brushed his hand against his own arm in a failed attempt to fight off the urge for physical contact of some kind, Estonia would never admit to it. Just like he’d never admit to jumping as a loud knock sounded on his door. 

No one knew where he lived. Only Denmark and Denmark wouldn’t tell. 

Slowly, he made to get up. Unless - No! Nothing could get Denmark to tell where he was. Nothing. Of course, torture could do horrible things and get people to do what they never thought they could do. 

As strong as he thought he had been the first time he was taken and questioned, he learned quickly that no one can withstand some things and that -- 

“Eduard!” 

He let out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding, shaking his head as he did so. It was Taani. Moving quicker towards the front door, he opened it, surprised to see not just the Northern nation, but Sweden and Finland as well. 

So he had been right, Taani did spill the beans. “What-” 

“I’ve been trying to get in contact with you for weeks!” Tino said as he hugged him, pushing what was left of the large fluffy blanket to the ground. “I’ve been so worried, how could you ignore me like that!” 

Before he could answer though, Tino was already pushing him aside to let himself in, those micronations that had latched themselves onto him rushing in as well. “It’s okay, I know it wasn’t on purpose,” Tino continued, completely oblivious as to the confusion on his face. “You needed space. I can get that.” 

Sweden moved past him too, trying to wrangle in the smaller wannabe nations. Taani moved forward and picked up the blanket. “I was at the airport, I had texted-” 

Estonia nodded. “I saw.” 

“Well I wasn’t sure and my bosses were yelling at me for falling asleep last meeting and you said that if I needed your notes--” Taani gave him a crooked smile, “Unfortunately, I ran into Tino and Berwald at the airport. Tino had been at your Tallinn apartment - you’ve got to show it to me, I only know about this place - and when I said I was visiting you, well, you know how Tino is when he puts his mind to something.” 

Unbearable. His best friend was nearly insane if he felt like putting his all into something. “The meeting wasn’t-” 

“You’ve been no contact with anyone for about three weeks,” Taani replied, cutting him off. “I’ve gotta admit, I was a little worried too.” 

He nodded absentmindedly. Three weeks of long showers was going to look bad when he was in his proper mindset. “Sorry,” he said, clearing his throat and grabbing the blanket from Taani’s hands. “I’m sorry Tino, I got sidetracked.” 

Tino basically flew from the kitchen, giving him a sore look. “Don’t apologize,” he said, a surprising twist from the scolding he was sure was going to happen. Tino gave both Taani and Sweden a look that had them scampering off to the kitchen with the kids before speaking again. “I understand. It feels like no time has passed since - well since the bad times and you need some time alone.” 

Time alone was probably the last thing he needed. “Still,” he tried to stress as he moved to drop the blanket on the couch, “I-” 

Tino wrapped his arms around him, holding him close. “We’ll fix this together,” he muttered as Estonia felt himself burrow his face into Tino’s neck. A shiver ran down his spine as Tino squeezed him slightly. “Whatever you need, I’m here.” 

With a shaking breath, he asked, “Can you just keep hugging me?” to which Tino laughed and held on tighter. 

“Not letting go ever.” 

Parts of him warred. The parts that sung with joy were thankful that someone was hugging him, while the parts that screamed that everyone betrayed you in the end, told him to pull away to protect himself. But he couldn’t. Tino was strong and warm and smelled suspiciously like apple cider. 

“Did you bring your apple cider here?” He asked as he made an attempt to let go of the other. “No, Tino, seriously, did you?” 

“You mean my delicious and slightly famous amongst the other nations apple cider? The one that won the best drink awards for six years in a row and has become a staple for final nights potluck dinners? That one?” 

The smug tone brought a smile to Estonia lips, “Yes,” he said, squirming lightly. “Let go so I can get some.” 

“I said I was never letting go ever,” Tino replied, “I can’t break that promise.” 

“Tino!” 

Cheerful laughter filled the room. It wasn’t enough to fight back the overwhelming depression that hit him, just like that week when Taani visited him and they spent nights laying out on a blanket together watching the stars hadn’t either, but perhaps, Estonia thought as he managed to unlatch himself from his best friend, perhaps it was a start. 

**Author's Note:**

> \- Taani = Denmark in Estonian. I also have a bad habit of having Estonia call Denmark that during fics as like a pet name, I don’t know why. I’m bad at pet names I’ve been in like one relationship, it failed, so!
> 
> \- Tino has a special apple cider drink because my Oma’s friend who’s family supposedly came from Finland had a very very good apple cider drink that she shared whenever my family threw a large get together during the fall/winter months, mostly during our large Christmas party and I loved it.
> 
> \- Skin hunger/touch-starvation is a real thing and it can cause some problems. Please be sure to take good care of yourselves and if you’re feeling bad go get a hug from someone you trust, it’s not going to solve all of your problems but it is going to help you feel slightly better. 
> 
> \- This is probably my fave Whumptober fic I’ve written so far. It’s probs my fave aph estonia fic I’ve written as well. This isn’t really a note, more of me just talking again. 
> 
> \- oh wait, wood burning stoves. from some of the estonian blogs-forums-youtubers i’ve seen from googling, i’ve found people who mention that they still have one, but i’m not sure if it’s as common. i decided that eduard has one more for aesthetics/a connection he likes. personally my house has a wood burning stove in what used to be the kitchen and my best friend’s parents house still had one so i’m guess it’s more personal choice. personally i’m all for electric but i’m terrified of gas leaks so. 
> 
> \- also the water tank part is taken from the fact that my house’s water tank sucks and will randomly give me cold water when i’ve asked for hot. it’s a effing joke okay. never trust american made products okay. they suck. (i say as an american).
> 
> \- also the barn. my uncle lived on a farm. when i stayed there once they found me curled up in a stall. younger me had issues. 
> 
> \- also. read old american newspapers. there are a million and one articles - thankfully - from estonians, or latvians, or lithuanians, or romanians, or etc, begging the governments of the western world to not forget that their home countries were occupied and their friends and family was being tortured and it’s honestly harrowing.


End file.
